


Spirits of Malice

by ephona



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23204884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephona/pseuds/ephona
Summary: A few years after the battle at Garreg Mach, wartime has covered the country of Fodlan.  As war rages on, Dimitri is realizing a terrifying thing about himself.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Spirits of Malice

After the collapse of Garreg Mach and the official declaration of war from the Empire, the Kingdom of Fahergus had returned the call to war. Every noble house rallied their strongest armies and generals and sent them to the capital to form one large army. But, as the years passed and the small skirmishes littered the cold countryside, the armies grew smaller and more fragmented. The Empire began to slowly move their conquest path through Fahergus, capturing villages with no mercy. Many citizens feared for the worst as they scrounged for resources in the wartime storm that now covered them. The poor starved, the merchants profited. Nobles from the house of Gautier and Fraldarius held back most of the advances, refusing to let the influence of the Empire go further. The noble houses quickly became overwhelmed by the sheer number difference of the military power between the new empress of Enbarr, Edelgard, and the soon to be crowned king, Dimitri. Meanwhile, Dimitri had shut himself away.

Returning from the last skirmish, he’d barricaded himself up in his private quarters for almost a day before servants had to force their way into his room. They found his bedroom an indistinguishable mess: pillows torn and their feathers scattered, painting frames broken, candles snapped in half, bedcovers strewn about, and furniture knocked over and damaged. He was instantly moved to a guest room and white magic specialists were summoned to heal his self-inflicted wounds and to discover the root cause of his episode. For weeks, he was confined to that room being treated for fever, tremors, and other plagues but to no avail and more frustration for all parties. As the world outside waited with baited breath, Dimitri stared at the gilded ceiling, disturbance in his eyes. They were calling to him. He’d heard them. His father, his mother. They had spoken to him. The crazed face of an innocence in Remire had visited his dreams. Bifurcated corpses had hung over his bedside. Heads floated around his candles at night, their tongues hanging out and dripping blood. And they all said similar things:

_ “You let us die in vain.” _

_ “That woman is your enemy” _

_ “If she died, this wouldn’t be a problem.” _

_ “We died because of her wickedness.” _

_ “Her head should join ours?” _

_ “Kill her, Dimitri.” _

_ “You’re our only hope” _

_ “Kill her” _

_ “Her death will fix all” _

“Kill her . . .” His chapped lips repeated. Into the empty room, he’d ruminate those words. What was he doing lying here? He had a duty. Why? Why was he still here?

“Your Highness?” The door opened slightly, bringing the open world flowing into the room. The smell of fresh stew wafted in along with the sound of two heavy footsteps. Breath caught in his throat. He sat up with a start, his hand reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. The man at the door paused, the bowl in his large hands pressed close to his chest. “Your . . . Highness?”

“Oh. Oh it’s just you, Dedue.” Dimitri felt his heart relax and he fell back gently onto the headboard.

“Yes. Of course.” Dedue, his right hand man, frowned a bit as he saw the color flush back into Dimitri’s pale face. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

“No. No. I’m fine.” The prince placed a hand on his forehead, feeling the damp surface. “A-Ah. I think I’m getting a fever again.”

“Regardless, it’s dinner.” With the same grace and stillness, Dedue walked over to his bedside and placed the bowl of bear stew on a nearby table.

“I’m not really hungry.”

“But you haven’t eaten since last night. That’s not good for your health.” He sat on the edge of the bed, close enough to see Dimitri but far enough as to not disturb him. “Come, I’ll feed it to you.”

“T-that’s really not necessary.” Dimitri let out a heavy sigh, brushing his hand across his brow over and over. “Won’t this darn fever go away?”

“Your Highness, you do not need to pretend to be someone you’re not around me.” Dedue’s tone sounded so firm, it took Dimitri by surprise. He’d never once heard Dedue speak back to him once he was officially given the title of his right hand man. He was usually too forgiving and compliant. But now, his face spoke of a complicated emotion that bordered on concern and frustration as he softened his voice a little. “You are not feverish. Don’t lie to me.”

“P-Pardon? Dedue, what are you saying?”

The large man swiveled around on the bed to face him head-on. “I’ve helped oversee every treatment of yours lately. You had a fever for a few days and have not had one since. You keep pretending to be physically ill to keep others from visiting you. And now, you are refusing food.” He folded his hands gently on his lap. “Your Highness, what’s happening? What have you not been telling us?”

Dimitri opened his mouth to speak but found his words catch in his throat for a moment. He pursed his lips back together with a small hum of discontent. “I . . . Dedue--”

“Please tell me everything.” He interrupted. “I do not like seeing you suffer alone like this. If there is something you don’t wish for me to say to the staff and others, let me know. I . . . I’m speaking to you as I did years ago. When we were children.” Dimitri saw Dedue’s face contort around a bit as if he was having a hard time using those words. “I cannot yet call you by your name but at least let me treat you as a friend. Is that okay?”

“That’s beyond fine! I’ve been wanting you to treat me as a friend again for years!” Dimitri paused as he saw another vision of a corpse walk across the room. He shivered and pulled his arms close to his chest, feeling his muscles tighten with fear and loneliness like they did the day he saw the Tragedy. He felt as Dedue put a hand on his shoulder.

“What troubles you? Please. I want to help.”

Dimitri placed a hand over Dedue’s, some tears beginning to form on the edge of his eyelids. “Promise me you won’t think badly of me?”

“I have never thought badly of you, Your Highness. I have only felt compassion and pain coming from you lately and I don’t want you to feel that alone as I had to.”

The prince took a deep breath, moving Dedue’s hand gently off his shoulder. “Dedue. I don’t know exactly what is happening but I believe I’m delusional.” He paused, expecting Dedue to butt in with a surprised gesture. Instead, he saw the expression on him soften and urge him to continue. “I wake up with nightmares worse than the ones I have about the Tragedy of Duscur. Sometimes I’m fully awake when I have these nightmares. I see my father and my mother and dead people I do not know. I see disembodied heads a-and bodies moving. People I’ve killed. People I’ve seen die before me. I don’t know why. I don’t understand what’s happening. Bu-but they speak to me. They talk to me as if they are real. I’m pretty sure they’re not real, I mean all logic dictates they aren’t, but they’re so vivid. I . . . I don’t know. I don’t know, Dedue.” He brought his fingers up to his temples. “I don’t want the people to know I’m like this. I don’t even know what’s happening. What if they call me crazy? What if they don’t accept me as their King? What if I’m actually dead and this is all a dream? I can’t tell. I--”

Dedue brought a hand up to rest on Dimitri’s head. The gentle heaviness of his calloused fingers released a sigh he didn’t know he was holding in. He brought his hands down so he could see Dedue’s face clearer. He was expecting him to look confused, bothered, or even disturbed. But his angular, scarred face spoke of something he wasn’t expecting: compassion. He watched as Dedue brought his other hand to rest on his shoulder. “It sounds hard. I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

“D-Dedue. I-I . . .”

“I have heard tales of spirits haunting others. Spirits of the fallen, spirits of malice. You might be haunted by them. But I’m not sure. All I know is that it sounds painful. To have to see such things and not know of their true form is . . . unspeakable.” He lowered his head and Dimitri swore he could see him press a few tears from his eyes. “I assure you that I am real and that we are speaking together. I . . . I’m so sorry.”

Dimitri leaned into his hands, tensing up a bit as he felt tears begin to fill his eyes even more. “W-Will this keep me from becoming King? A-Am I too crazy? I can’t even determine reality anymore. I don’t want to scare anyone. I don’t want . . . maybe Felix was right. Maybe I am just a wild beast thirsty for blood. Just a wild boar! Maybe I’m--”

“Felix says things to help his broken ego, you do not need to concern yourself with him.” Dedue tightened his grip on Dimitri’s shoulder. “You are a good man. What may be haunting you does not change that. You are still the same person I met growing up. Your heart is full of love and in the right place. You do not kill mindlessly. You have the Kingdom’s best interests in mind, you always have. Even the injustice of Duscur you understand. That’s because there is a pure spirit inside of you. Please try and remember that, no matter what the spirits tell you.” He removed his hands from Dimitri’s body and moved back over to the cooling bowl of stew. “If you are comfortable, tell me more. But after you eat.”

Dimitri felt his shoulders lighten. His breathing started to become easier and, for the first time in weeks, he felt less alone. As Dedue moved the bowl into his hands, he shivered again as he heard another voice from beyond the grave. He let out a shuddering sigh. “Dedue . . . can you promise me, whatever happens, that you are real and you won’t leave me alone?”

“Absolutely. However, I make that promise as your friend and not as your vassal. Is . . . is that too much to ask?”

“Not at all. In fact, I prefer that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Depending on how things go, this might end up being part of a small series. Please let me know if you liked it!


End file.
